shoppers drug mart

I went into Shoppers Drug Mart to try to find a greeting card to give to my little sister (she needed some cheering up), I learned that there is no “cheer up” or “don’t worry be happy” section but there is an “I love you section” and I came across this! A card. It was simple and sweet and I wished this was something I could buy myself but I couldn’t because doing so would be lame and would probably warrant at least 3 sessions with a therapist (that I can’t afford) not that I believe in psychologists and psychiatrist anyway. In Gina’s words (Brooklyn 99) “psychologists are just people who weren’t smart enough to be psychics”.

The card read: “I am nuts about you” with a picture of 2 peanuts hugging each other!


Universe, I’m just letting you know that the upcoming Valentine’s Day is my last Valentine’s Day in my 20’s (which pretty much means my last Valentine’s EVER because I after 30 everything just goes down hill) and seeing as how I’ve never been in the opposite of unrequited love (because no one ever falls for me) and have therefore never celebrated this holiday (which sure is just a commercial holiday and an excuse to shop and eat chocolates and pay 10X more for flowers which would cost ten dollars on any other day (except Mother’s day) (which I of course I would never do because I believe picking flowers is cruel and inhumane and why the hell would someone kill a plant as a token of love? It’s like “here is this flower that has been cut off from it’s life source, who now has no access to sunlight or water except at your mercy as a token of how much I love you. Oh yah, a gift of death is really romantic), but whatever! I want to be part of the cosumerism on that day instead of being the lonely girl buying heart shaped chocolates to alone eat in bed at night the day after Valentine’s Day because they are now being cleared out at 50 percent off). You owe me a day of happiness with someone who would immediately think of when he sees this card, has nice hands, is a good kisser, someone well read and also keeps enlarging Karan Johar’s twitter display picture to admire how good looking he is! We don’t have to do anything special on that day, I just want him to play with my hair, tell me that I am the perfect mix of sexy and cute and remind me that I’m so smart and pretty and “different from other womyn” (no matter how sexist that is and despite how much division that creates between us womyn, I am different damn it! I am not like those annoying, good for nothing, too-good-to-lift-a-finger and get their hands dirty, girly girls. I can’t play that part! Oh gosh, that is my downfall isn’t it? Because I refuse to conform to what is expected of my gender?). There should be chocolates, ice cream cake, even donuts! And when my hands are sticky he offers to lick them clean because I am delicious! Don’t fuck this up for me universe, I’ve read The Alchemist over ten times and have watched DDLJ an undisclosed unhealthy number of times. Okay, over 25, I’ve almost averaging 2 times a year since it first came out. Oh gosh I need help.

shoppers drug mart

okay fine but only under one condition: it has to be $5 or under!

You know when you’re in conversation with a guy over dinner or coffee, or talking to a him during a movie and you’re having such a good time. As your conversation progresses you begin to believe that every word that is coming out of your mouth is so fascinating and thought provoking because not only are you talking (naturally of course anything that you talk about it bound to be interesting because you’re talking about it!) but also because he is looking at you equally enthusiastic as you are telling your story? His eyes are beaming wide, his lips are pursed together in agreement and you could almost feel that he is compelled by your views, you could almost see the readable thought bubbles appear above (and a little to the side of) his head with little follow up questions and anecdotes that he cannot wait to discuss and share! He looks into your eyes and nods occasionally almost as if he’s found enlightenment and about to have a mental orgasm. He drops eye contact with you and looks away but only to dig into his spaghetti with his fork (eyeing it as he turns his fork around and around to make the perfect spaghetti twirl, lowering his head and bringing his fork to his mouth while totally regretting ordering the spaghetti because he lost 15 seconds of looking at you) or take a bite or sip his coffee (which he’s not drinking in dire desperation to stay awake while listening to you but because the taste of Irish cream flavored coffee on his toung complements your voice that falls on his ears). But for almost the entire time his eyes are fixated on your lips as they move revealing an excitement in your smile as you explain in detail how much you love Karan Johar’s witty, charismatic personality and sense of humor and not to forget his beautiful smile but think he could lose the velvet maroon jackets because it makes him look slightly like an Indian Hugh Hefner, recalling funny events that happened at work or react with outrage over parts of your story (of course anyone would be annoyed if your burger came dressed with regular mayonnaise when you specifically asked for low fat). He cannot help but look at your lips as his ears absorb your every sentence. You feel this confidence, this self assurance and fearlessness as you speak your mind because not only is what you have to say super interesting but you have your favourite lipstick on that just makes you feel like you’re on top of the world! (ladies you know this feeling). Lipstick has super powers (really, I kid you not). Inside this simple looking rectangular shiny case is a stick of creamy pigment when applied to a womyn’s lips makes her feel like she can conquer the world. This is the lipstick effect.

Just two days ago I had a crappy day at work not only because I loathe my job (and feel that I am way too intelligent and stupid for not quitting and overqualified for) and didn’t want to be there in the first place but because I wasn’t feeling very well. I did however make it through the day and when I finally finished work I was ready to leave the bank but didn’t feel ready to go home just yet. I wanted to go shopping but couldn’t because I promised myself I wouldn’t buy anything for one whole month (in addition to my no cookies and chocolate diet, the theme is resisting temptation). My material desire argued with my reason for a good 4 minutes but I couldn’t fight my temptation so I went to the negotiating table with myself, I told my reason that was very much against driving to the drugstore that I would purchase something only if it was 5 dollars. That was my limit. My reason caved because reason likes to travel and cannot argue against a possible 5 Aeroplan points. So I drove to Shoppers Drugmart and went straight to the cosmetics section and GUESS WHAT? Lipstick was on sale! (It was $5.49 but of course I was gong to pretend that it’s still within my limit because 49 cents is closer to 5 dollars than it is to 6 dollars AND it’s only 49 pennies which I have in my penny jar) Trying my very best to stay away from shades of plum which I always find myself drawn to I removed a shade of purple (closer to blue)  from the slot and coloured the side of my left hand to see how it would look on my skin and I was SOLD.

My little material journey of mine to the drugstore is an example of the lipstick effect. In economics is a theory that when a society or individual is facing an economic crisis, consumers are more willing to purchase less costly luxury goods instead of purchasing expensive luxury goods. Of course this is just a theory but it is rumoured that after the 9/11 terrorist attacks on the USA lipstick sales doubled! I needed something inexpensive that made me feel good. Feel better for making it through the day and furthermore I just wanted to feel the high of swiping my plastic credit card and bringing something new into my life. I must say that I have my doubts about the theory of gravity but the lipstick theory should be declared a fact.

On side note: I wore the lipstick to work today. Maybelline Whisper line shade 85 makes me feel happy, confident and (like the name) berry ready to take over the world!


okay fine but only under one condition: it has to be $5 or under!

I’ll tell you what I want

I want my life to be a movie. Not my entire life just a part of it. If a little part of it is asking for too much I’ll settle for a small little scene from a Karan Johar movie half set in India and half in Rome. I want the small scene to span a week (a week in real life is the equivallent to 15 minutes in a full length movie). 7 full days of happiness and silly smiles, no doubting my existence or thinking and maybe 1 existential crisis a week. 7 days of just flavored coffee and chocolates and ice cream with colourful sprinkles on top, whip cream and cherries and nights of licking maple syrup off every inch of his body, listening to him read short stories in bed and making love to Boyz 2 Men songs, walks under the moon light and kisses by a fountain on tippy toes, I want sunshine with Ray Bans and to get caught in evening rain with no umbrella. Naked breakfasts followed by we-were-having-too-much-fun-and-totally-forgot-about-lunch-lunch and candle light dinners with white wine and red lipstick on his shirt, Lips on his shoulder and our fingers interlocked. I want to experience that feeling I’ve read about in books where time feels like it’s standing still and we we’re the only 2 people in the world. Small surprises and being treated with respect. For 7 days I want my reality to be confused with my dreams, that is what I really really want.

Sorry. This post was written under the moon’s light. There goes my Master’s in Philosiphy in one post. I’ll go to sleep now.

I’ll tell you what I want

that’s it, Karan Johar is my soulmate!

It’s true! I just watched this interview with Karan Johar and i literally got out of bed, turned on my reading lamp just so I could watch this interview with full focus. Not only does Karan Johar make the sweetest most romantic movies in India and have the nicest smile, charisma, charm and wit to make one’s heart skip a beat and melt into a puddle of chocolate but he is the 42 year old male version of me! He struggles with his self, has praised and pleased in an effort to be loved in return, fears being lonely, doesn’t fear death but the death of his loved ones and and AND get this! His only relationship lasted 6 months (which is 6 months longer than mine because I haven’t been in one) and he admits to saying that he liked saying that he’s in a relationship more than actually being in one. AND if there is one type of love he knows it is unrequited love! He knows heart break and admits that he is such a drama queen that he will not move on from his heart break just so that he can sob in it! I hink I have fallen for him even more after this interview because he is me! He lives vicariously through the films that he makes and I live vicariously through the main leads in his films!

It is 2:11 am and I am not doing his interview justice by blogging about it so here, watch it for yourself:

#KaranHaveKoffeeWithKiran I am the Canadian female 28 year old you (without all the money and fame and box office success of course but my blog is doing great and I Mastered the existential crisis) We can be sad, miserable, lonely, with incredible Punjabi run-your-fingers-through-my-hair-hair together!

Tonight I am going to sleep with a smile.

that’s it, Karan Johar is my soulmate!


I began blogging in 2011. It was mostly out of sheer boredom and my need to let my thoughts run loose and wild (not that I keep them tamed in my off-line-life). The prospect of having my words put together into coherent sentences articulating my ideas, beliefs and raw emotions floating around in internet space and being stumbled upon Karan Johar also tickled my fancy. Who am I kidding? That was ultimately my goal. I thought that perhaps somebody on Karan Johar’s team would be on the internet one evening enjoying their day off work with a glass of wine about to call it a night until she or he saw their twitter feed “you may also like @apple_kaur” it would read. They would immediately be drawn to me laughing at the cute and witty play on words. Their curiosity would be heightened by my academic preppy-esque display picture of me smiling wearing my rectangular designer glasses, dressed in a blue satin top and black cardigan. This would cause them to stay online just a wee bit longer. After clicking my twitter page and reading my profile they would quickly learn that apple_kaur’s real name is Kiran and she is an unhappy consciousness who loves peanut butter, has an unusually large collection of socks, books and dead philosophers are her friends. After scrolling through my tweets they would learn that I find existentialism quite sexy, am very comfortable naked, have tried (and tried and tried but have been unsuccessful) at trying to make #KaranHaveKoffeeWithKiran become a trending topic in India, know a lot about unrequited love and have a low tolerance for alcohol, Punjabi guys and stupidity. By clicking my pictures they would learn that I love Mr Bear, collect (steal) airline cutlery, am in love with India and have an unusual fascination with toilet paper. At this point they would be hooked on me like a fat cake on cake (just to clarify, I of course being the cake).

Eager to learn more about this Canadian girl named apple_kaur they would begin to search the web to find more information. Their heart would race as they search frantically only to end up in disappointment as they learn that I don’t have Facebook! Almost on the verge of tears and heart break, almost about to give up would return to my twitter page. Conveniently enough I have provided the link to my blog on my twitter profile (because I knew this would happen) and voila! More apple_kaur! What they thought would be an early night would turn out to be a long one as they would read each and every word of my blog.

My first post would intrigue them, the second post would tug on their heart strings and by the third they would feel the natural inclination to text Karan Johar in the week hours of the morning (despite being told never to do this unless Shah Rukh Khan agreed to film a DDLJ sequel) to inform him that they have discovered his new couch! AHHHHHHH!!!! I would receive a call from a Mumbai number on my Blackberry just minutes before I begin my menial job as a bank teller for which I am overqualified and too good for but do out solely out of desperation and necessity as I find my dream job. “Hello Kiran?” he would say. “Hi!” I’d reply with excitement in my voice almost trembling with anticipation for his next sentence. “Hello! It’s Karan Johar, would you like to have coffee with me?”

“YES YES YES YES YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!” I’d reply, non-nonchalantly, keeping my cool as if stuff happens to me all the time. “Great! I’ll have my people call you and we’ll keep in touch, I think you’re so fresh! Exactly the creative mind and writer that Bollywood films need, and you’re cute too!” he’d say in that cute Indian guy accent smiling the entire time he speaks with me. Without thinking twice, I’d run to get a piece of paper and pen, write my resignation letter clearly stating that I am formally giving my two weeks notice and slide it under my manager’s door. I’d then jump on my terminal and serve my line up of customers (who despite living in 2014 are incapable of using other more convenient methods of paying bills, making deposits and transferring money between their accounts) with a smile because I’m leaving Etobicoke and going to live in a cute, colourful and eclectic flat with an open space concept in a building that has a breath taking view of Mumbai’s waterfront. I’m quitting the bank and moving to Mumbai to make it as a writer and have coffee with Karan!

So as you probably may have figured out, the above scenario has not materialized but I’ll tell you what did happen through blogging. Not now though because I am tired.

This blog is incomplete.


If I ever write a book this is going to be the opening.

Karan Johar, if you are by any chance reading this and feel that you want to develop this introduction into a movie starring a charming 30 year actor who wears glasses who has this run-your-fingers-through-my-hair hair and loves to play scrabble; just tweet me. We can discuss the logistics over coffee. #karanhavekoffeewithkiran

She sends this to him on BBM on a cold autumn evening knowing this will be the first thing he’ll read when he wakes up.

I know this is going to sound ridiculously silly to you because it is blatantly obvious but there is a lot of distance between us. I wish that you did not live so far away. You can’t be in my existential space on a Friday night far. You exist on the other side of the world from me and I exist here. Right here. Time zones and hemispheres were a part of irrelevant knowledge that I acquired long ago that remained tucked away in my brain (right beside dissecting a circle learning to label Bohr diagrams) that has now come in use. I have to keep in mind that you are nine and a half hours ahead of me. I have to add 9 and a half hours on to the time it is in my space to know what time it is in yours. When I’m ready to go to sleep you’re just waking up. When I’m getting ready for work you are working on your writing before bed. Technology is amazing but deceptive. When you instantly reply to my messages it distracts me. I’m conscious of the reality that you live there and I live here but each day I get tricked into believing that you are close by and the distance between us is illusionary. When something funny happens I always want to tell you. When I buy something I always want to show you. It feels like we live near each other, always connected but just too busy to spend meet. But the reality is with the indubitable distance between us, we can’t.

I was thinking about this last night as an embodied being, not simply an isolated mind that is connected to eyes looking at a world map. When I think about it as a body who just recently travelled; my experience hits me with the undeniable truth that you are far. A thirteen hour plane ride far. In order to see you I have purchase a ticket and drive to the airport. Present my passport to show proof of my identity (which often times I question), submit my luggage and walk into the screening room. A room where I have take off my shoes, empty my pockets and put all my belongings into a plastic rectangular container and then onto a belt to be scanned like I’m a criminal. After proving myself to be no threat to national security wait in the boarding area. When called to board the plane I walk in, find my seat and anxiously wait until the plane takes off into midair where the ground is now the plane beneath my feel slowly taking off into the clouds. The clouds, where I’ll be travelling through for 8 hours. After my journey in the sky I’ll have to get off the plane when it lands a country somewhere in Europe. I then have to go through another security check which can be quite the erotic experience in a sterile kind of way. I have to wait 2 hours in another country’s airport and then board another plane which will take off and fly into the clouds for a little over seven hours.

Do you know what this means? It means I have to fly over more than two huge oceans to be in your existential space and those oceans are gigantic! Like if I dropped a penny into one of the oceans I’d never be able to find it huge. Never mind a penny, if my plane (which is miniscule compared to the body of the ocean) were to crash and fall into the ocean, the chances of recovering my body are slim to non because the ocean would swallow me up whole. Even the chances of recovering the black box are rare. The plane would have to be 1/4th the size of the ocean to even be noticeable. Then once I land I have to clear customs agin, wait for my baggage and find a taxi all alone in a country that is completely foreign to me. Take an hour long cab ride to my hotel (where hopefully you’d be waiting) just to be in your personal space.

That’s FAR. You’re really really far. The first time that we met was sheer luck (one of my most memorable nights that almost feels like a dream every time I think about it, which is ofen) and the second was just a calculated coincidence. What if there isn’t a next time and we don’t meet again?

I know. I know that if there isn’t a next time then there just isn’t a next time because that’s life and life just goes on and on and on until we get old and die and leave this seemingly meaningless existence; but, I’d be really sad if I could only text you through it. Heart broken sad. I’d be forever carrying around a broken heart sad (even to places where I’m supposed to be happy. I’d look happy but feel sad inside).  All I want is to spend an evening with you on your couch, playing with your hair while you read to me my favourite book. Okay perhaps that’s not what I want. I couldn’t do with an evening. If this wish of mine ever came true I’d never let go of you. I really don’t want to know what you think of all of this. I don’t even want for you to reply to but I cannot help but think how stupid this is, how stupid and unfair this all is. 

His reply: you can make that the opening to your book.

Her reply: goodnight

His reply: sleep tight

If I ever write a book this is going to be the opening.